RONAN FIONN O'DUBAIN / FINNR JARLSSKALD

I am Rónán Fionn ÓDubáin, also called Finnr Jarlsskald and I hail from the Barony of Bryn Gwlad in the Kingdom of Ansteorra.
I began my time in the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) on February 2, 2013 (A.S. XLVII) at Bryn Gwlad's Candlemas.

I was born in what would become Dublin, Ireland during the time when it was a viking settlement. My mother was Norwegian and my father Irish and I was raised with a fondness for both cultures.
I would learn to brew meads, ciders, and beers and go on to be a skald of some renown.

I am a founding member of the King's Road Performers within the Kingdom of Ansteorra.

-Dauntless the stag braggart!-Many felled - the falcon’sFoes - with wings unseasoned.When feathers unfurled he Flew like few before him.Glory stained the green hillsGrowing warlord’s lusterTill ring-giver gave himGolden eagle’s cloaking.Spirits soared with splendidSpurs, belt, and plain chainings.Time has shown his titlesTruly weren’t his measure.

His worth better won byWords of praise and wisdom.

His faith was the fire thatFueled his love and passion.His sword and his service

Surpassed only by hisDevotion to dearestDarling wife and Savior.His legacy leaves usLonging for more stories.

Tell your tales, wild, true, or

Tall! Drink deep to Dietrich!

Style: dróttkvœtt
Written On: 2017-11-23

Many are the men who

Make their name in battle,

Giants crowned by cleaving

Calves led to their slaughter.

Rare the winter warrior

With heart beyond stature.

So, the giant-slayer

Soared as Sable Falcon.

His entry well earned to

Ansteorra’s Eagles.

Sharp, the talon, showed his

Shield protects his homeland.

White-hand’s belt-son brought a

Bounty of service to

Any in need. Earnest

Effort toiled in gladness.

With deeds mounting daily

Duke asked his horsemen if

Their Riddari ring was

Ready for this soldier.

At the crow-feast, Crown then

Claimed his chain was well earned!

Belt and spurs then bound the

Brave son of the Black Star!

Longer grows his legend

Learning the blade dance of

Alfheim’s slender serpents

Soared to be Queen’s Champion!

His ebony aegis

Earned in greatest measure

Valkyries saw his victories and

Valhöll awaits this hero

Style: dróttkvœtt
Written On: 2017-12-19

Blood starling of Steppes, the

Stormborn of Hrist’s blizzard,

Plumed often in pitch and

Powder inspires many.

Steel talons have torn the

Triskel-sons that dared to

Stalk the fields and strike the

Star of jet he keeps well.

Drums he beats and drinks for

Dreamers brewed most strongly,

Rouse voices to revel

Reaching late to night’s end

Seek the battle-swan and

Set your brow orbs skyward

High over the oaks his

Ebon wings are soaring.

Original poems written using a variety of styles, including skaldic and eddic verse as well as a sonnet or two, most of which are praise pieces written for members of the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA)

Latest Addition: Hrafnsvisur (12-19-2017)

STORIES AND SONGS

Throughout Ansteorra and the Known World there are names spoken with whispered reverence. Queens and kings, knights, dons, pelicans, laurels, lions and legends. Men and women that embody the dream; whose valor and prowess on the field of battle, extraordinary works of arts and science, or heroic deeds of sacrifice and service have etched forever their legacy in our storied history. A name, a single name, bearing such significance that its mention can fan the embers of a waning dream or kindle the fire of a new one.

Riccardo, Rowan, Ragnar, Pendaran, Iago, Ivarr, and you. Each and every one of you has within you a greatness awaiting release. Believe and accept that you are incredible! Let the flame of your dream ignite in those around you so that together our light will shine as a beacon to those still lost in the darkness! Embrace your excellence and let your name be spoken with whispered reverence.

Style: Prose
Written On: 2015-10-31

A trotter is the foot of a pig, it was also fitting name for a squat little boy with a head too round for his body. He lived on a pig farm and was the son of a butcher, who was the son of a butcher who was the son of the butcher that started the pig farm. He could hear the stinging jeers of the other children in the village as they danced and played while he hoofed his way up the hill to his father's shop.

“Trot away piggy!”

“We'll invite you when we go play in the mud!”

“What a boar!”

They never did... invite him to play that is. He smelled of pig, day and night as if he too slept in the slop and filth. It permeated the pores of his pink flesh; he couldn't tell, but the other children wouldn't let him forget.

His breeches bore the badge of the butcher, as did his shoes. The apron helped, but the faint coppery stench and crusted brown streaks of blood stayed with him every day when he went home.

At work, his father would never take a risk with the choicest cuts, those needed a master's hand and Trotter was just an apprentice. He was made to work with the cheeks and jowls, intestines, and of course, the trotters (no part of the pig was wasted in this shop).

It was Trotters job to slaughter the pig in the back and bring it through for his father. He would pretend it was Seamus, the biggest kid in the village and the loudest with his barbs. Some days it was Michael, who quietly egged on the other kids. But mostly, it was Claire and the look of revulsion she never thought to be kind enough to conceal when he passed.

A methodical and vicarious affair. The squeals. The squirming. The squeals. The thrashing against the bindings. The squeals. The knowing look of fear in Claire's... in the pig's eyes.

As the children grew older, the loathing in their voices and the malicious mistreatment of the maligned young man magnified. Jeers turned to shoves, words became fists, revulsion was a stick used to jab him as he tried to pick himself off the ground.

The squeals weren't enough. The pigs were herded, locked in a chute, and bound before butchering. Trotter needed more, something that would require work, something to occupy the places in his mind that dwelt on painful reminders in his flesh. No one missed the strays, save his father, but he was glad to see the whining little beggars gone from the proximity of his shop.

A bagged cat could be taken away and given the proper attention it deserved; as could a small dog. But, it wasn't long before the streets were clear and Trotter was left with the lingering lilt of loathing laughter in his little pink ears.

That year, Trotter received the greatest gift he'd ever been given for his birthday. It was a damp Saturday in October and his father had given him leave to gather hazelnuts, for his mother, from a grove outside the village. These moments of solitude were normally filled with the echoing silence that continued to scream the curses of his peers. But not today. Today, the scream was much different. Today, it was a sobbing voice, deep, yet pitched awkwardly through puberty and pain. Trotter inched carefully closer, lest this be another ruse to lure him to a ruthless beating.

He'd fallen prey to that one before, Claire laying on the ground, clutching an ankle, asking for help and soon as Trotter was close enough to reach out his hand, she slapped it away and the little huns descended upon him as if he were the gates of Rome.

Oh, but this time, it was no ruse. Trotter could see the blood and bone protruding from Seamus's injured leg. His horse had thrown him, and he'd taken the fall all wrong. Trotter, emptied the gathered hazelnuts from his cloth sack and began to fold it along its length. He inched closer, cautious, reluctant, frightened and exhilarated. He knelt beside Seamus, cloth sack readied in his hands and looked deeply in the battered boy's brindled brown eyes. He saw a genuine thankfulness there, which made their shift to uncomprehending panic like sweetest clover honey when he used the sack to gag him. He struggled and fought, but every time Seamus's superior strength pried at Trotter's hands and the cloth, Trotter's foot kicked at his exposed bone. He succumbed to the abyss of unconsciousness after the third kick.

Trotter spent the entire afternoon with Seamus, an apprentice was becoming a master that day; a true test of his skill, he began with the trotters. Teeth were tossed to chatter in the creek, hair flitted away in the breeze and the pigs ate well that night.

Original stories in a variety of styles. These stories are not linked by subject, style, or genre and just represent some ideas about which I wanted to write

Latest Addition: Trotter (10-31-2015)

SPECIAL OCCASIONS

And follow Creppin’s crownSvarta Dreki’s sword sonSwept across the kingdomHere the talon holder Hews the unfit forest﻿Awe at the Golden Eagle’sUnparalleled swiftnessLoud, echoes his sword songSung like the Storm God’s callThe Spinner’s MerkismannMade Creppin’s StallariAnd quick his steel serpentsStrike down the unworthyPretenders, ImpostorsPity them their fate, forRiddari Drysdale standsDefiant of their claims

Style: Prose
Written On: 2016-07-08

The ground beneath our feet is firm, like the resolve of Riddari Drysdale. He is the dancer to the sword song, the feeder of ravens, the herald of the blizzard of Hrist, and the name on the tongue of the norns as the bringer of the long sleep to all foes this day.

Gathered here on this noble hill are many who deem themselves worthy of the crown of Ansteorra and would see themselves as successor to our glorious and exalted ring-giver, Gabriel. Riddari Drysdale comes before your impressive majesty this day to prove he has the courage of the One-Handed, the strength of the Anvil-Striker, the fortitude of the Frozen-Storm, and the prowess of the All-Father. He will honor you, his king, with blood and victory.

Style: Mixed
Written On: 2017-10-06

Hail the King! Hail the Queen!

Hail the Lords and Ladies!

Hail the Gods! Hail the Goddesses!

Hail the Honored Sable Star!

Look upon this day with favored eyes

And good fortune for all that witness.

Listen closely Lords and

Ladies to recounts of

Virtues of the völva,

Vigdis the seiðr-spinner!

Well she kens the wool-ways

Weaving brilliant patterns

No cords from any creature

Could she not turn spiral

Ware to any warrior

Wanting easy spoils for

Ash is bent to bring the

Bow-mother’s hail of reeds!

Mother of two talented

Talon-storms, Jurgen and Hilda,

Now does Danr’s wife near

Knowing love surrounds her

Twice belted to bay-wreathed,

Beatrix and The SpinnerVigdis held her Vigil and Vaunted wisdom garnered

These are solo and collaborative efforts in conjunction with other members of King's Road Performers for special occasions in the SCA, such as crown tournament, coronation, investitures, elevations, and the like.

Latest Addition: Elfsea Baronial Investiture (09-01-2018)

Courses

Name

Category

Time

Cost

Request Course

Beer for Beginners

Brewing

6 Hour(s)

$5

Making Mead

Brewing

3 Hour(s)

$5

Simple Ciders

Brewing

2 Hour(s)

$2

D'ye Ken? (Kennings for Beginners)

Performing Arts

1 Hour(s)

None

Managing Stage Fright

Performing Arts

1 Hour(s)

None

Writing Skaldic Poetry - Advanced

Performing Arts

2 Hour(s)

None

Writing Skaldic Poetry - Beginner

Performing Arts

2 Hour(s)

None

ACHIEVEMENTS

2013

February

Bryn Gwlad Candlemas - First event. Baronial Brewing Champion

June

Took over the local brewing guild and started teaching brewing classes.

October

Bryn Gwlad Fall Baronial - First attempt at the bardic arts.

2014

February

Bryn Gwlad Candlemas - Award of Arms

November

Bryn Gwlad Fall Baronial - Golden Martlet (baronial service award)

War of the Rams - Sable Thistle for Brewing

2015

February

Bryn Gwlad Candlemas - Bardic Champion for the Barony of Bryn Gwlad

Ansteorra Kingdom Arts and Sciences (First) - Beer from the Elizabethan English Countryside - Selected as a Gulf War Artisan

March

Apprenticed to Mistress Lucia Piazetta

June

Steppes Warlord - Bardic Champion for Barony of The Steppes

October

Bryn Gwlad Fall Baronial - Sable Thistle for Bardcraft

November

Queen's Champion (Ansteorra) - Performed a skaldic poem commissioned by Ivarr Runamagi for Catriona MacEanruig upon receiving her Court Barony.

February

March

Gulf Wars - Performed an Old Norse translation by Mistress Brynhildr Kormaksdottir for the elevation of Haraldr Bassi to the Order of the Laurel. Performed as herald for the Viking Raid. Performed for the Gulf Wars War Bard Competition.

July

Ansteorra Summer Crown Tournament - Joined with Ceara inghean mhic an Ghabhann to perform processional and lyst-side heraldry for Jason Drysdale and Margherita de Mantua. This was the birth of King's Road Performers. (View)

October

Namron Protectorate - Processional heraldry for the elevation of Vigdis Grafeldr to the Order of the Laurel.

November

War of the Rams - Performed an original skaldic verse commissioned by Uchtan MacDuib for James the Holy, King of Gleann Abhann. (View)

December

Tournament of Champions (Ansteorra) - Represented the Barony of Bryn Gwlad in the Arts and Sciences competition.

2018

January

Ansteorra Winter Crown Tournament - Performed processional heraldry, along with other members of King's Road Performers, for Jason Drysdale and Margherita de Mantua. - Sable Flurs (award for a single act of outstanding artistry) were awarded to the members of King's Road Performers. (View)

February

Ansteorra Kingdom Arts and Sciences - Third entry into Eistedfodd finished first and named Premier Skald of Ansteorra.

March

Gulf Wars - Performed as herald for the viking raid.

April

Coronation of Jason Drysdale and Margherita de Mantua - Processional herald for Jason Drysdale and director for King's Road Performers' choir for the processional of Margherita de Mantua.

July

Ansteorra Summer Crown Tournament - Performed processional heraldry, along with other members of King's Road Performers, for Micolay and Uliana Haiduk. King's Road Performers also provided a singing entrance into both morning and evening court for King Jason Dryesdale and Queen Margherita de Mantua. (View)

July

September

Braggart's War - Performed processional heraldry, along with other members of King's Road Performers, for the baronial investiture of Kazimierz Zlowieszczy and Katheryn Margarete de Ryes. (View)

CONTACT

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This request does not guarantee acceptance to teach a class at any event or gathering. This is a means to open a dialogue to discuss teaching the course in further detail. Please understand that work schedule and travel considerations will be taken into account when deciding to teach any course.